


Two Heartbeats as One

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Dark, Demon/Human Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Family, Flashbacks, Guilt, Horror, Murder, One-Sided Relationship, Romance, Tragedy, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1255201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam drinks him down, refusing to forfeit or forget his love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Heartbeats as One

**Author's Note:**

> Season 4 AU. Written for Week/Day Three (Valentine’s Day/Galentine’s Day) of Gen/Ruby 2 Teensy Bang’s Prompt Week.

Ruby hovers at the very edge of the motel, as far as she can get from the nearest windows. The rock underneath her is uncomfortable but keeps her grounded in the present moment, exactly where she needs to be. She can’t back out of this now, not so she can change her mind again, not another moment when she doesn’t have nearly this much confidence or faith in herself. 

She sharpens her blade, testing its strength on her arm, letting the cool metal slide across her tongue as she licks her blood off of its glinting surface. She smiles, her gaze trained on the door of room thirteen. 

The demon stands up and starts walking, sticking to the shadows provided by the trees, eyes never leaving the room that holds her _prize._

 

Sam Winchester has never been much for Valentine’s Day. There was that one year that he was tricked by Dean, who led him to believe that the box of chocolates and big stuffed bear were from a girl he had liked at the time, yet they were really from his smart ass brother. After that, Sam just chose to forget about the holiday, which was just as well because Dean became so caught up in the life after that he probably forgot the holiday even existed. 

He looks back now and smiles on it, because as pissed as he was at Dean back then, he looks back on it now as a gesture of affection. At least Dean gave him a few days of happiness and anticipation, and those chocolates were pretty good. 

Why he’s suddenly thinking about Valentine’s Day this year, he actually doesn’t know. But something must trigger it, and something must also drive him in the direction of the nearest grocery store so he can buy Dean a box of chocolates. 

Better late than never, right?

 

Standing in line takes too long, and Sam is impatiently swaying on his feet. He thinks about just leaving and getting back to the motel; he hardly ever gets to spend time with his brother unless it’s hunting or researching, which doesn’t count. Even when they met up again, they always had a break here or there, but lately it’s just been nonstop and Sam wants a change. He hasn’t contacted Ruby in weeks because of it, and honestly he doesn’t feel one bit guilty. 

If he wants to spend time with his brother, then that’s what he’s going to do. With the lives they lead and the trouble they’re constantly getting themselves into, there’s no knowing when one day will be the last for either one or both of them. They have to make it last, in any way that they can. 

The box of chocolates will be an apology for past events and a promise for better memories to come. It’ll be just like Sam envisions it, they’ll kick back on the couch and watch some TV, drinking beers and eating chocolates and looking at the other when they’re distracted. It’ll be just like that one Christmas, and Sam will be damned if he isn’t going to recreate it, make it even better this time. 

He moves forward, remembering the last Valentine’s Day. 

Dean had his foot propped up on a chair, tying the laces on his boots, looking up at Sam and shooting him a grin when he walked into the room. “It’s Valentine’s Day, bitch,” he smirked. “Hey, you remember that time...”

“Yeah, I remember that time.” He had rolled his eyes and added, “Jerk.” It was their usual bantering, chock full of love and devotion, and Sam had remembered it. He had replayed it in his head that night when he had to drag Dean in out of the rain and get him to bed, stitching up his split cheek and the gash in his head, waking him every hour to check for signs of permanent damage. Sam would be cruel if he said he was getting used to it, he never would, but watching Dean sleep had easily become the most familiar thing in his life, and home had become the equivalent of listening to Dean breathing and snuffling softly in his sleep. 

The walk back out to the car seems to take longer, and he speeds back to the motel. 

 

The knife cuts into his skin as easily and _purely_ as a knife through butter, splitting open the flesh and giving her purchase to pull it back without much effort on her part. Then again, she’s used to this. The blood is beautiful but in that way it’s a distraction, hiding the thing deep inside that she wants most. Her hands soon aren’t enough as she wades through the blood, and her arms delve inside to help her search, to push past the red and find the prize for her beloved. 

It isn’t long before most of her is covered in blood, the sticky substance streaming down her forehead and into her eyes. She blinks, and the blood runs out like tears, the savory taste of his blood coating her lips. Her tongue flicks out, lapping up the blood there, but only for a moment before she forces herself to concentrate, bending down further and trying to see, to feel, to _taste,_ wait for his blood to taste _sweeter,_ as it always does closest to what she’s searching for. 

The room is silent save the blood dripping from her arms and elbows and onto the wood. Soft, steady dripping that’s almost like a cadence, soothing her, stilling her in this moment. 

There are whispers all around her; blood red snakes slithering up her arms, desperate for an entrance point; and there is a fierce pounding in her head. She doesn’t have much time left, yet she is almost there. 

Her fingers brush against his ribcage in anticipation, prying open the bones with built up force without a moment’s thought. They fall away from her, revealing the precious organ they had once protected. 

The blood tastes sweeter. Her arms stretch as far into him as they can and her fingers wrap carefully around the no longer beating object. She pulls it out, and with a smile turns it over and over in her hands carefully. With glee and simultaneous awe, she stands up and holds it closer to the light filtering in through the window. 

His heart. 

 

She barely makes it back to the motel room, standing up with the heart held in her hands, before she hears a familiar car pull up into the parking lot, engine shutting off quickly. She looks down and smiles, it’s the prize she worked so hard to obtain, the thing that would renew her place in Sam’s heart.

The demon can hear him jogging up the steps and she stands in her space, frozen, waiting in unbearable anticipation. She’s still jittery from the act itself, then from dragging the body out of the room and down the steps and disposing of it properly, but she could not feel prouder and more accomplished. She has worked hard for Sam this year, and it’s time for him to notice that. 

The door opens, light spilling into the room, and closes with barely a moment passing, allowing the room to enfold her in darkness once more. She feels safe where she is, with Sam not five feet away from her, the darkness breathing around her like a living thing, reveling in her secret, in the act of love she has committed, the precious thing she has obtained out of love and for the sake of further love. Silence falls around them like a blanket, smothering them almost, and Ruby longs to break it as much as Sam does, yet she let’s him have the first words. 

As hurriedly as Sam walks into the room, he just as quickly notices that something is in her hands, specifically from the blood dripping off her fingertips and onto the wood below. He glances behind her and sees the bloody mess of the table and the floor beneath it, notices how it trails into the entryway and under his - 

Sam quickly moves, taking note of the blood on the carpet beneath him, shivering as he glances up at Ruby again. “What is that?” Sam’s voice quivers, his eyes widening and all the energy and strength he previously had withering up inside of him in that instant. He can feel his knees bending, legs threatening to give out on him, and his breathing quickens into short, hurried gasps. 

Ruby can feel herself go weak too, but with Sam involved it’s not a sign of vulnerability. It’s nothing other than a sign of her love and devotion. She holds the organ up so he can see better, making sure the slant of light from the mostly covered window shines down upon it. “Don’t you recognize it, Sam?” 

It has to be a dream, a completely ridiculous dream. Yet Sam somehow knows that the heart belongs to Dean. 

_His Dean._

“What did you do?” He is shaking all over with rage as he storms up to her, hands clenched into fists and eyes as sharp as knives. Somehow then, and he doesn't know how, Ruby moves right through him. He feels achy all over and dazed afterward, like she’s seen a part of him that he never even knew existed, but in reality she is merely almost right on top of him, her hands seemingly everywhere at once.

He could be pushed into the carpet so easily, the blood soaked carpet, a deep red color like the color he had felt pour out of his skin when Dean had gone to hell for him, like the vengeance in his heart and the pain, the _agony_ behind his eyes, soaking every inch of him. 

His eyes search frantically for the heart and find it on the table, and it looks so real and so _familiar_ because when he finally sees it he can see Dean’s smile, hear his laughter, see the love in his eyes. 

“So you do recognize it then?” Ruby whispers in his ear and he shoves her away, but it’s no use. She’s as immovable as a brick wall, and he can’t find the strength in himself anyway, crumbling under her figurative weight, the blind devotion in her eyes and her desperate, almost crazed movements. He can suffer the torment she dishes out to him, he knows that now, he _deserves_ it after he left Dean, after he told Dean to trust _her_ but even more so to trust _him,_ his baby brother, his reason for every word and every action. 

_I am so so sorry, Dean._

There are tears streaming down his face, he knows that much, and inside he’s screaming in both rage and loss, but somehow the trigger hasn't happened yet. “This way,” she continues, her voice sweet and he so much doesn’t want it to be, “you can keep him inside of you _forever.”_ She closes her eyes and when she opens them again, Sam can feel himself drowning in their dark depths. He’s trying to climb his way out, but he feels stuck and lost and he knows that every word she is saying is nothing less than truth. 

“What are you talking about?” He breathes out through the tears and the denial, questions her, horror struck, as his body finally let’s go and he starts sobbing loudly. 

“The blood, Sam,” she insists, ignoring his reaction. She unbuttons his shirt and Sam can only watch dazedly, hardly able to keep track of what’s going on anymore. “The blood is the final connection. It’s gone cold now,” just like her fingers on his freezing skin, “but that connection will last for a little while longer. I swear, I didn’t take any of it.”

Sam shakes his head, tries not to panic as Ruby pushes him slowly down to the carpet, bending over him, straddling him. He can smell blood on her breath - _Dean’s blood, blood that’s supposed to be inside of him_ \- and it’s setting him on edge. Her soft skin is pressed up against his own and it’s nearly enough to make him lose control, to use up all the strength he will need later on. 

Ruby took everything that belonged to Dean, she took away _his_ Dean. But her words, the way she says them, ground him momentarily. “Take any of what?”

“His memories,” she smiles, but it’s nothing less than an icicle plunged into Sam’s still beating heart, one he doesn’t deserve, one he would give to Dean - should have given to Dean - if he had the chance. “They belong to you, Sam.” 

She’s felt it before, knows the rush. Taking control of and inhabiting vessels for long periods of time gives her the same privilege, of knowing thoughts and dreams and desires, but it’s nothing like _this._ She’s going to open up a whole new world for Sam to experience, a world where he doesn't have to worry about or grieve over his brother ever again. She doesn’t need thanks or appreciation, she’ll see it just by the look in his eyes when he devours his brother. 

The response is immediate when Ruby brings up their memories, memories she assumes she’s not privy to and never will be, and she smiles at her boy’s sudden strength and even his hatred for her in this moment, because the former results in her pride and the latter is only temporary. 

“Shut up!” He screams, trying to push her away and failing again. “I swear to god, Ruby, that once you let me go I am going to kill you. I’m going to cut you open and make the pain last for days... weeks,” he corrects, grinning maliciously at her, already enjoying the images in his head of what he should have done _ages_ ago. “I’m gonna do things to you...”

She shoves him down into the carpet forcefully, putting a hand on his mouth mid-sentence. She’s only doing what’s good for him, and he’ll figure it out someday. He may hate her now, but he will _truly_ love her later. “You won’t when you realize what I’ve done for you, what I’ve _given_ to you.” She says it like she’s sure and she is, surer of this than of anything else. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Sammy.”

Ruby smiles and in that smile, Sam feels as if he’s being devoured whole. 

 

Precious seconds are wasted, but Ruby gives Sam time. He doesn’t need to be pushed into this, he’ll accept it wholeheartedly on his own when he realizes what he stands to lose. Sam Winchester feels guilty enough over the role he played towards his brother, and in order to eradicate at least some of that guilt, he will see it her way and choose to lock Dean up tightly inside of him. 

This is the only thing she can do for Sam involving Dean, the only way she can make him see that she really does love him. 

“Go on, Sam,” she soothes, the tips of her fingers soaking up his tears and brushing a stray lock of hair off his forehead. She pulls away finally, to give him some space, and saunters over to the table. Sam isn’t protesting anymore and when she walks back to him, the heart held gently in her hands, she can see the war waging inside him, the indecision and the temptation and the realization that this is the only way to _keep_ Dean. “It’s the sweetest the closest you get to the heart, and when you’re in the heart...,” she breaks away, a dreamy grin of contentment on her face. 

It disgusts Sam, everything about her abhors Sam right now. But he can’t lose Dean forever, refuses to forget his brother or forfeit his love. 

If Dean can’t be here then he’ll carry his brother inside of him, blood and memories and all. 

He takes the heart from her outstretched arms, losing himself momentarily in the blood dripping from her hands, and he sinks his teeth into the organ, letting its juices explode in his mouth. Dean’s blood tastes sweet and bitter one second to the next, and it’s more addictive and _satisfying_ than Ruby’s had ever been. 

He shuts his eyes in order to focus more on the taste, tuning out all else around him, and drinks more deeply - _desperately._ Brutally long seconds hold him hostage until he finally feels it: Dean’s memories. Except they aren’t _just_ memories, they’re moments in their lives when his love for Sam shone like a beacon of unwavering light, when nothing else could light his way, could guide him through the darkness he so often heavily sank down into without a thought. 

Sam whimpers, not able to stop drinking, not able to have enough. 

He will never be able to get enough of Dean, not even after countless months on the road with him, in close quarters pretty much twenty-four seven. Dean is - _was_ intoxicating, one look at him and you couldn’t look away, one second to breathe him in deep and when separation hit, it hit hard, making it more than just difficult, but next to impossible just to breathe. There was no breaking away from his brother’s strength, his limitless capacity for love, the power he exuded and that smart ass smirk he always drew Sam in with so effortlessly. 

Dean had been nothing less than a miracle, his savior. And Dean was, for lack of a better word, _delicious._

When he’s done drinking, when the blood has all run dry, he chews, memories assaulting him more viciously now, terrible memories mainly, but with a few good ones mixed in here and there. He wants to stop, _needs_ to take a break, but somewhere outside of his secure place he can hear Ruby pushing him on, encouraging him, telling him that this is the only chance he has. 

He doesn’t realize that his brother’s heart is completely gone until he looks down and sees nothing but blood in his hands. He hurriedly brings his hands to his face, lapping up the blood there with his tongue, but there are no more memories to be relived. 

None of this feels real. He pinches his arm and blinks, but Ruby is still with him. 

He pulls himself further upright, feeling Dean’s perceptions of all their memories coil tightly up inside of him and settle down. They’ll come shooting up to the surface all in due time, but at least Sam has a moment to reflect right now. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then puts his head in his hands and starts rocking back and forth, waiting for the tears to come again, waiting for his hands to stop shaking so he can question himself again as to what to do about the demon behind him. 

But when he’s spent, when he finally feels such loss, Sam screams and screams and screams some more until he knows that his voice is about to give out and he’s seconds away from being driven insane. 

In the midst of his near insanity though, one memory filters up towards him: Dean’s memory of Sam’s smile, of the love for his big brother in his eyes, and the way they had crashed into each other, arms wrapping around one another tightly, breathing the other in, reveling in their reunion. He can remember Dean’s smile and his relief at Sam’s well-being from his own closely guarded memories, but nothing is more refreshing and beautiful than seeing that moment through Dean’s eyes. It’s all he needs, that one little memory, the way the both of them remembered it. 

He slides the blade out of his back pocket and plunges it into her heart. 

Ruby gasps, eyes wide, her vessel’s final breath loud and choked as the demon inside goes out in a final explosion of light, satisfying Sam Winchester immensely. She falls back against the carpet, dark hair spilling out around her, her mouth partially open and her eyes open too, unseeing. Her head is turned to the side, away from him, and he looks away with finality. 

Sam lays down on the blood-soaked carpet, breathing Dean’s scent in, and retreats inside his head once more. There’s nothing left to do but break away from reality, away from Ruby’s dead vessel and especially from the overpowering smell of blood, and curl up tightly with his memories. 

Memories that are so precious to him now. 

He floats toward the sound of Dean’s heartbeat, loud and firm, exactly as he had remembered it. This way, Dean will never die, never fade away; Sam can make sure of that. He thanks Ruby silently for the gift and drowns in his Dean.

**FIN**

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the prompt: ‘Ruby brings Sammifer a recently beating heart for Valentine’s Day... whose is it?’


End file.
